A bit of a longer chapter...

Chapter 3

As per tradition throughout the Kingdom of Quel'thalas, the week leading up to the King or Prince's birthday was marked with a time of celebration and merriment.

Silvermoon was decorated with cascading lights that twinkled gaily, strung along the buildings that illuminated the banners proclaiming the joy that the citizens felt under the rule of the Sunstrider name. Parades filled the streets while magical confetti sprinkled from above, enchanted to disappear before it touched the ground below.

Festivals were thrown with an excess amount of food and spirits, the lilting music of bards playing their instruments causing the revels to last long into the night. Many a small child ran barefoot through the city, carrying baskets filled with flowers, chaining them together like a crown to gift to passersby to wear upon their head.

The aristocracy would commemorate this time by throwing extravagant dinner parties, filled with a sense of pomp and decadence. Only the best was served, from exotic imported fruit brought in from the jungles of Stranglethorn and rich cheeses from Iron forge, to large reserve casks filled with aged elven wine.

Every estate was a flurry of activity, getting ready to outdo the other in a competition that never failed to have the Lady's in charge showing their claws. Servants wore harried expressions as they ran to and fro, trying to keep up with the near impossible demands of their employers. It seemed that for most, the parties were more about upstaging their fellow nobles and to win boasting rights for after the birthday celebrations were concluded.

With her family commencing the start of the weeks festivities, it was no surprise that the Bel'Tannen Manor was in full swing with preparations. Solandis Bel'Tannen was in her element and was giving out orders as though commanding a military unit. Everything must run smoothly and no mistakes were to be made.

"My Lady."

Glancing up into the mirror that hung on the wall above her vanity, Isolde turned her head from side to side to look at the hairstyle her maid, Wendry, had come up with.

Nodding in approval, she accepted the silver bracelets from Wendry and pulled them on over her hands.

"Would you like some perfume, my Lady?"

"Just a dab, if you will," Isolde instructed, watching as Wendry used the stopper to apply a small dose of the fragrance behind her ears, notes of vanilla, cedar and orange blossom scenting the air.

Standing, Isolde smoothed down the skirt of her dress as she smiled at Wendry and headed out the door. Upon approaching the banquet Hall where she would greet guests with her parents, she wondered at who would be attending.

A prominent family, there was always a sense of mystery that followed the Bel'Tannen name. Her father had come to Silvermoon five centuries prior, an elf Lord of the High Vale who seemed highly influential and had gained the ear of the King, Anasterion Sunstrider. Rumor had it that the elves of Quel'danil did not even know who Firiaz Bel'Tannen was, while others assumed that he came from Dalaran and had changed his name. Whatever the true reason, her father had the trust of the King and was council to many a meeting that the Royal family attended.

While curious by such gossip, it never occurred to Isolde to ask her father about them. It would be impolite and she loved her father too much to disrespect him in such a fashion.

Walking up the long entrance hall lit by braziers of pine wood, Isolde paused outside the dining room as she heard her mother's voice.

"... - ing say anything? Perhaps a hint on what his thoughts are?"

"He has not, my dear Solandis. As you know, the Prince spends most of his time in Dalaran, these days. Anasterion has told me that he's shown interest in a human girl, name of Proudmoore, if I'm not mistaken." Her father's voice.

A gasp. "A human girl?! How can this be? He...he can't marry a human!"

Isolde kept still as she listened, knowing it was wrong to eavesdrop but unable to help herself. She felt her heart flutter, the possibility that there might be a small chance, no matter how insignificant...

Trying to calm her racing thoughts, she entered the dining room, staring in awe as she took in the transformation the room had undergone.

Blue mana crystals hung from the ceiling, lighting the room with a soft glow as the crystals themselves were held within the roots of a tree that someone had managed to grow on the floor above. The roots sprawled outward, twisting and turning along the walls in a amazing spectacle unlike any she had seen before.

Laden tables were bursting with all assortment of food - meats, cheeses, oysters, freshly baked bread, astounding dessert creations that looked too pretty to eat. A roasted boar sizzled on a spit in the center of the room, magically turning on its own as the juices dripped into the fire with soft hisses and pops. Crystal glasses were lined up perfectly near large decanters filled with dark elven wine, several servants darting about to add last minute touches.

"Isolde!"

Turning, Isolde greeted her mother, who seemed slightly flustered. Her father was nowhere in sight.

"Oh, darling, you look beautiful," Solandis praised, seemingly pleased. "Would you mind handling the rest of the preparations? The guests will be arriving shortly and I must still get ready. Time seems to have gotten away from me."

Isolde gave her mother a reassuring smile. "Of course I will, Minn'da."

With a soft kiss to her mother's cheek, Isolde watched as the she hurried away, no doubt to reappear looking resplendent in an outfit to draw the envy of others.

Her glance surveyed the already extravagant hall, noting once again as with all the prior years, her family's servants had things well in control and needed no guidance from her.

Walking over to the wine table, she poured a generous amount into the nearest glass and held it up to the light produced by the mana crystals. The burgundy wine was opaque, barely a hint of light seen through the glass. She was taught that along with the nose, this was the best way to identify the quality of elven wine.

"You plan on drinking all of that?"

Startled, Isolde turned towards the voice, quickly placing the wine glass back on the table.

"Ann'da, I did not see you."

Firiaz Bel'Tannen smiled gently down at his only child. A large man even by elvish standards, he commanded attention in any room he was in. Gifted with flaming red hair and piercing amber eyes, he carried himself with a surprisingly dignified and graceful manner, the slashing scar that cut from above his left eyebrow and traveled down over the length of his nose to his right cheek increasing the mysterious aura that clung to him.

A smirk. "And if you had seen me, would you still have poured half of the bottle into the glass?"

Isolde blushed, that child-like feeling filling her as she was caught doing something that amused her father, only for him to join in on the fun.

"Well-I," she stuttered, beginning to explain. A large hand on her arm cut her words short, causing her to meet her father's eyes.

"Come with me." He took her hand and led her outside onto the surrounding terrace, which overlooked the city, the red and gold spires standing tall towards the sky.

Isolde stood quietly next to her father. She studied the rich silken fabric of his dress robes, the golden thread shining richly against the setting sun to the west. The jewels imbedded in the hilt of his ceremonial dagger glittered as well, the weapon tied low on his hips.

"You are unhappy."

It was not a question. Frowning, Isolde pursed her lips together, unable to deny it.

"What do you want, my daughter."

She spoke the first thing that came to mind. "My freedom."

Firiaz's eyes glowed brighter at these words, inhaling sharply. He nodded, staring out onto the city. "I understand."

"Ann'da, please," Isolde beseeched. "I don't want to marry him."

Her father studied her for a long moment, his eyes - so much like her own - softening.

"I know. Fear not, little one. I will not take away your free will. I love you too much for that to happen."

Launching herself at her father, she hugged him with all the strength she could muster, a soft chuckle escaping him at the show of affection.

"I must go and get your mother. Our guests will be arriving shortly." Firiaz turned to go but stopped short, turning back around to pull a small scroll from inside of his robe pocket. "I believe this belongs to you. I found it earlier, out in the garden."

Isolde's eyes widened comically as she hesitantly took the scroll from her father, her uncertainty palpable, a knowing look on his face.

Before she could say anything, he turned and left, leaving her alone. Biting her lip, she unfurled the scroll slightly, Anshul's written words becoming visible.

"And all that's best of dark and bright

Meet in her aspect and her eyes;

Thus mellowed to that tender light

Which heaven to gaudy day denies."

As when he had gifted her the poem, her stomach flip flopped and her knees felt weak. Clutching the parchment to her chest, she smiled softly, filled with hope anew.

Ann'da - Father

Hope you enjoyed this chapter. They say poetry is the food of love and this story will be well fed, trust me. The poem at the end is from Lord Byron, She walks in Beauty. I will start updating weekly with what I have now, probably with bigger gaps in-between as I continue to write. Do keep in mind family, work and other fun IRL things do pop up and I do want to pace myself with this story so it stays well written and fun. Thanks for reading. See you in the next chapter...